Stay With Me
by 47alwayswriting
Summary: When Castle and Beckett meet in a bar one night, they have no idea what's about to happen when Castle finds two detectives on his doorstep the next day. This launches Castle into a search he never thought he'd be involved in. Beta-read by Sanctuaria.
1. Chapter 1

_I was planning on finishing this story before I started posting, but in light of recent events, I changed my mind. I'm almost done anyway._

 _I started writing this story last year and with a lot of help from the amazing Sanctuaria, this is the result._

 _Enjoy_

* * *

The light that filters through his curtains stings his eyes and he suppresses a groan. Putting a hand over them, he tries to block out the sunlight that tries to burn its way into his pounding head. It's been a long time since he went this far and it cuts in deep.

As he tries to roll on his side to bury his face in his pillow he feels a weight on his chest. A weight that he hadn't noticed earlier. He cautiously opens his eyes and finds that the weight belongs to another person. A woman. The sight of her golden brown locks glinting in the morning sun causes his memories of the night before come rushing back.

He had gone to a bar to forget about the awful fight he'd just had with his second ex-wife about his next book. She had been there too, drinking her sorrows away. He couldn't believe that someone could hurt someone so beautiful, so he'd struck up a conversation. At first she was reluctant, only answering his questions with yes or no. But he stayed with her – it wasn't like she told him to get lost so he saw that as a good sign.

As the night went on, she had shared more of herself with him. He wasn't sure if it was because of the alcohol or not. It wasn't like she drank that much or seemed even remotely tipsy. Maybe it was just his charming self. He grins at the thought for a moment and then dismisses it. There's no way that this woman could fall for his drunken charm.

He sighs and watches her sleep. She really is beautiful, asleep and relaxed. He feels the overwhelming urge to find out more about her. She never told him why she was at that bar last night and for some reason he needs to know. He's scared that when she wakes up, she'll leave. That in her eyes last night was nothing more than a one night stand. Which it was, technically. But he can't stand the idea of her leaving. So he revels in the early morning quiet. Her slow and sleepy breaths. The way her mouth falls open just a bit when she exhales. The way the sun plays over her bare back.

The way she yawns before slowly lifting her head is extremely cute. The way she cracks open one eye is adorable. The way she squints in the sharp morning light is endearing. She has already turned him into a sap. Though he reckons he always was one, and all she needed was one night to lure him out of his self-protecting-playboy-shell. She just doesn't know it yet. To her, he still is that playboy and she is just one woman he can add to his reputation.

"Staring's creepy," she mutters and pushes up and away from him. He immediately misses her warmth on his chest. She looks around the room and then back at him. He can't read her face, but he desperately needs to know what she is thinking. Who she is. What drives her. It's not even about why she was at that bar anymore. It's completely about her. She fascinates him, makes his fingers tingle with the desire to write her story. That sensation surprises him; he hasn't felt the urge to write in so long.

"I should go," she says and he realizes that he's still staring at her and that he still hasn't said anything.

"Do you want any breakfast?" he asks, and immediately he feels stupid. It sounds too desperate in his ears.

"No, thanks," she says with a small smile, "I should get to work." She gets up and scrambles around the room in search of her clothes.

"At least let me make you some coffee," he says and he jumps out of bed. He was right, he thinks as he makes his way to the kitchen without waiting for her answer. He really doesn't want her to go. He wants to talk to her. Like they did last night, after she opened up a bit.

A minute later she walks into the living room, now fully dressed in the clothes she had been wearing the night before. He holds up his hand to stop her from walking out the door, which doesn't help, obviously. She pretends that she doesn't see him and makes a beeline for the door.

"Hey, wait," he calls and he quickly grabs the coffee that has just finished, pours it into a travel mug and runs after her. Her step falters, but she doesn't turn around. "Here, take this," he says as he pushes the cup in her hand. She looks down at it and he would swear that he can see a little smile tug at the corner of her lips.

"Thanks," she murmurs. She looks down, her hair falling to hide her expression. Before she can make another move, he lifts his hand to push it away from her face and gives her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Good luck," he whispers against her skin and he doesn't know whether he means to wish her good luck for her job or for her life. He hopes that it won't be the latter because that would mean that he will probably never see her again. It reminds him that he doesn't know anything about her. If he'd had to guess by the way she carries herself, he'd say she's a lawyer, but he isn't sure. Not with the haunted look in her eyes.

She sneaks a quick peek at him and then she's gone. He sighs and rakes a hand over his face and through his hair. He slowly closes the door, wondering if he'll ever see her again. When he turns around, his loft seems empty. It doesn't take him long to figure out what's missing…

"Hey, Dad!" Alexis calls as she tiptoes down the stairs, causing him to jump.

"Morning, Pumpkin!" he says, trying to hide that she just made him jump. "Ready for breakfast?"

"Yeah," she says hesitantly. "Who was that?"

"I, uh… No one, just… no one," he answers, earning a doubtful look from his daughter, but she lets it drop. He hasn't brought any woman home in years – he handled his second divorce much better than his first one – but he knows that Alexis suspects something. "What do want for breakfast? Pancakes? Waffles?"

His picks his nine-year-old up and nuzzles his nose in her neck, making her giggle. "Daddy!" she scolds him. "Put me down!"

"Fine," he grumbles, "So… Waffles?" His daughter nods and rushes towards the kitchen to get the ingredients out of the fridge.

"Hurry up, Dad! I don't want to be late for school," she yells. At that, he checks his watch and notes that they have half an hour left before they need to leave.

"Okay, Pumpkin! Go pack your bag while I make breakfast, then you can eat and I'll change so I can drop you off," he says, jumping into their morning routine and momentarily pushing his mystery woman from his mind. He quickly whips up the batter for the waffles and pours some of it into the waffle iron. Alexis hops up onto one of the stools just as he scoops them out and puts them on a plate. After sprinkling some caster sugar on top of it, he sets it in front of her. He kisses her forehead and rushes into his bedroom, where he jumps into the first pair of jeans he can find and puts on a blue dress shirt that seems to go with it.

"Ready?" he says as he reappears in the living room ten minutes later. He managed to tame his wild bed head and he hopes that no one will notice the wrinkles in his shirt.

"Yep!" Alexis answers as she comes rushing to him from the kitchen, bag over her shoulder.

"Okay, then. Let's go."

The conversation in the car is about the science project Alexis has to do for school. She has to make a poster of the solar system. "Why a poster? We can make a model, so much more fun!" he says and Alexis' eyes light up at the idea.

"I should ask Ms. Ashley, but I think she'll be okay with it," she says enthusiastically.

"Great, I'll drop by the store later, so we can start when you get home," he grins, just as enthusiastic as his daughter.

"Okay, great! Bye, Daddy!" she yells as she jumps out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

"Bye, sweetie. Have fun at school," he says to the empty car. He watches his kid bounce through the school gates and greet her friends. He smiles at the picture, happy to see his kid so happy.

On his way home, he runs by the store to pick up some paint and Styrofoam balls for the model as promised. He also picks up a glue gun, hoping that he can finally use one, not that he'd let Alexis anywhere near the thing. He's never had the excuse to use a glue gun for anything, so he's pretty excited.

He tries to write, to give his vague book outline some substance, but his mind keeps wandering to the woman that left his loft this morning. He wants to see her again, but he doesn't even know her name. He figures that he could return to the bar where he met her, but he doubts that she'll return to that place if she doesn't want to see him again. He doesn't know what she does for a job; he has no idea where she lives. She might not even live in New York. He just knows that he wants to see her again.

He wants to see her smile, more of the little ones she showed him yesterday. He wants to hear her laugh, he wants to see her happy. He wants to know what her voice sounds like when she's mad and aroused. He wants to know how much he can annoy her until she bites back. He wants to see her anxious to get home to him. He wants to see her curiosity when he tells her that he has a surprise for her. He wants to see her bored and excited, indifferent and jealous, proud and filled with wonder, self-confident and shy, shocked and frustrated. He wants to see her in love. Maybe even with him.

He knows he's being insane. He'll probably never see her again. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest at the thought. There's no way he can be this affected after just one night, without even getting to know each other properly.

A knock on his door breaks him out of his reverie and he notices that his computer has gone into sleep mode. He didn't even notice his _You Should Be Writing_ screensaver. He closes his laptop and groans as he gets up.

There's another impatient knock as he makes his way through the loft. He opens the door without looking through the peephole and is confronted with two men. Both of them smaller than him, though the muscles of the Hispanic man are very clear through his shirt. The other guy looks softer, but something in his eyes tells him that he shouldn't mess with him either.

The Hispanic man flashes a badge at him and he catches the NYPD logo.

"Mr. Castle?"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

* * *

 _The Hispanic man flashes a badge at him and he catches the NYPD logo._

"Mr. Castle?" he says and Rick nods in confirmation, his eyes questioning and his eyebrows drawn together in a concerned frown. "I am Detective Esposito with the NYPD, this is Detective Ryan. We have to ask you some questions about a kidnapping that took place earlier today. Can we come in?"

"I… uh, yeah, of course," Rick says, confused, and he takes a step back to let the detectives through. "How can I help you?"

"Do you know this woman?" Detective Ryan asks as he shows him a photo of the woman that left his apartment hours earlier.

"Who is she?" Rick asks without thinking.

"Do you know her?" the Hispanic detective asks with a little more urgency in his tone.

"I – Yes," Rick says. "I met her last night at a bar, but I don't know her name."

"Just like Grant said," Detective Ryan mutters to his partner, then to Rick, "The barman said you left together?"

"Yes, we did. She left earlier this morning, around seven. My daughter came downstairs right after she left and she always gets downstairs just after seven. That's how I know the time." He sees Detective Esposito jot down the time and decides to give them a little more information, as far as he can. "She left in a hurry, but I did manage to give her some coffee. She said that she had to go to work, I assume she's a lawyer or something."

"Thank you, Mr. Castle," Detective Ryan says. He seems disappointed, maybe he hoped to get more information out of him.

"What happened to her?" Rick asks in a sudden rush of concern. The two detectives look at him in surprise.

"Do you even care?" Detective Esposito says.

"Of course I care! She's… she's –" He can't finish that thought because he doesn't know what she is to him.

"You met her yesterday, you said?" the Hispanic man inquiries.

"Yes, who is she?"

"Her name is Kate Beckett, she's a homicide detective at the twelfth precinct, Mr. Castle," Detective Ryan says. "She went missing this morning."

The news hits Rick like a train at full speed. He staggers backwards and feels the couch behind his thighs, he leans against the side cushion for support.

"Could you take us through what happened since you met?" Detective Ryan asks him and Rick thinks he can hear a little compassion in his tone.

"Yeah, of course. I was at the bar because I needed a drink after a pretty rough fight with my publisher and ex-wife. She was there, three stools away from me. She was staring at her drink, guys kept coming up to her to ask if they could buy her a drink, but she obviously didn't want to be bothered. I decided to sit next to her. She looked up at me with raised eyebrows and said, 'You've been sitting there long enough to know that I'm not in the mood.'"

"That sound like Beckett, all right," Detective Esposito says. "So why did you stay with her?"

"I told her that I wasn't interested in buying her a drink, that I just moved up to help her get rid of all the other guys. She seemed grateful. So we just sat there, moping, until she asked me why I was there on my own. I explained to her that I'd had a fight with my ex-wife and she seemed to understand, but she never told me why she was there, alone."

"Okay, that's all very moving, Mr. Castle, but that doesn't really help us," Detective Esposito says.

"Right, sorry," Rick apologized. "So we drank quite a lot and she shared some more with me, told me that she had just left work. That she'd had a pretty bad case, that's why I assumed she was a lawyer, you see. She didn't seem the type to be a cop. Anyway, we talked about mundane things, we drank, I took her home with me because she was in no state to drive. We woke up this morning, she was in a hurry to leave, didn't even want my coffee."

"But you just said that you did give her coffee?" Detective Ryan says, confused.

"Yes, I did. I stopped her and pushed a travel mug in her hand."

"What did the mug look like?"

"I have another one here," Rick says and he walks towards the kitchen. He pulled the mug out of his cupboard. "It looked just like this."

"Do you mind if we take its picture?" Detective Ryan asks.

"No, not at all," Rick says and the detective takes out an iPhone and snaps a photo.

"Can you describe what she was wearing when she left your apartment?" Detective Esposito asks.

"Yeah, sure," Rick says. "She was wearing grey jeans with a blue button down shirt and she also had a black leather jacket with her."

"Thank you," the detective says as he writes the information down. "Is there anything else she told you that might be relevant?"

"She didn't tell me much, but let me think," Rick says, wracking his brain. "No, sorry, nothing comes to mind."

"Okay, thank you for your help, Mr. Castle," Detective Esposito says and they start to turn around and make their way to the door.

"Wait!" Rick says and the two detectives turn around with hopeful looks on their faces. "Is there anything I can do to help? I have money, I can…" He tries to come up with something he could do to help but comes up empty.

"We appreciate your concern, sir, but you should leave it to the professionals," Detective Esposito tells him. Rick hangs his head in disappointment but realizes that they're already doing everything they can. As he lets them out Detective Ryan hands him a business card.

"If you remember anything else, please give us a call," he says. Rick nods and wishes them luck with their investigation. He closes the door and heads into the kitchen. He picks up the travel mug and stares at it. What if they can't find her? Kate Beckett. At least he knows her name now. Truthfully, he'd rather not know her name and still be oblivious to the possible danger she's in.

He shakes himself out of it and places the travel mug back in the cupboard. He then makes his way back into his office and reboots his laptop. He opens an empty document and starts to write down what he knows about her. He writes down every word he can remember falling from her lips, writes down every move he remembers her making, every sound. He wonders where she went after she left his loft that morning, writes every idea down. Did she take the subway or a cab? Or did she walk? Did she go straight to the twelfth precinct, or did she stop by her apartment first? Or did she go by the bar to pick up her car first?

The possibilities are too great to investigate on his own. He goes over his notes from the night before again and again, but they don't change. They don't contain any information the fifth time that they didn't contain the first time he read them. He wracks his brain, tries to remember anything else she told him. Anything at all.

The alarm on his phone reminds him that he should pick up Alexis. Not for the first time he's grateful for that alarm. He would've forgotten to pick up his daughter many times if it wasn't for the alarm on his phone. He would simply get lost in his own world and lose track of time. He double-saves his work to think about it later and goes to pick up his daughter and spend the rest of the day with her.

Alexis running towards him helps him put away any lingering pondering going on in his mind about where Kate Beckett might be.

"Hi, Pumpkin! How was school?" he asks as he envelops her in a hug.

"Good! I asked Ms. Ashley and she thinks it's a great idea to make a model of the solar system!" the girl squeaks.

"Awesome!" he grins and he holds up his hand for a high-five. He leads her to his car and helps her get in. He makes sure her seatbelt is on before starting the car.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three**_

* * *

"Look, Daddy! It's a spaceship!" Alexis says as she shows him an impressive looking spaceship.

"Woah, that's awesome!" he responds and he takes the piece of cardboard from his daughter. It really looks beautiful. "Can we give it a name?"

"Yeah! What about… Millennium Falcon?" she exclaims, proud of herself that she's remembered the name of the ship.

It doesn't look like a Millennium Falcon, but Rick's willing to overlook that for the sake of his daughter. "So be it. This universe will have a Millennium Falcon defending it," he says and he hands back the spaceship to Alexis.

The model of the solar system is coming along quickly. They've googled images of each planet so they can make it look as real as possible. He's enjoying himself. He always loves hanging out with his daughter and just goofing around. Even though this is for a school project, he still loves it.

When they've painted every planet, they put them to the side to dry. "We'll put a protective coat over them tomorrow so they stay pretty, okay?" Rick says and Alexis nods. "You hungry?" It's close to dinnertime already, he notices when he checks his watch. "How about we make pizza?"

"Yes! Homemade pizza! Can I pick my own toppings?" she asks him.

"Yes, but don't be boring," he tells her. "That's the rule." Alexis has the tendency to keep her pizza toppings on the safe side, so he makes it a rule that the pizza cannot be boring. He challenges her to try something new every time so she has to pick toppings that she usually wouldn't pick.

He once tried a pizza with marshmallows and chocolate chips, but after he'd put it in the oven, it had all turned into a mushy mess. So now he does have limits. Nothing that melts in the oven – apart from cheese.

That night, when he's put Alexis to bed, he looks over his notes from that afternoon again. His afternoon with Alexis took his mind off the issue, but now there's nothing to distract him. He wonders what it is about Kate that draws him to her. What makes him so driven to find her, because that's how he feels. The need to find her weighs heavily on his shoulders. So he goes over his notes again.

Did she go by the bar to pick up her car first?

The sentence catches his eye and he realizes that he doesn't know if she even had her car with her. Maybe her car is still at her apartment. That would mean that she walked to the bar. Or took public transportation.

He sighs. It's not like this information is getting him any closer to finding her. It's irrelevant. It's not like Detectives Ryan and Esposito haven't gone by her apartment already. He wonders if they've gotten any further yet. Maybe they've already found her and he's here worrying over nothing. If she's a cop, they probably have already found her. It would be a high profile case.

He decides to search the web on any news on a missing NYPD detective but doesn't find anything. He busies himself with looking for other information on missing cops. He reckons it's too soon for a story to appear on the internet, if there's a story at all.

He Googles her name and gets an address out of it. It bothers him how easy it is to find someone on the internet when you know where to look. He decides to drop by her place tomorrow, along with the bar where they met and see if he can find anything. He doubts that he will, or that he police haven't already been at her place, but he needs to do something. After poking around some more on the internet, he decides to call it a day and goes to bed.

The next morning, after he's dropped Alexis off at school, he walks to the bar where he met Kate. The place is deserted, which doesn't surprise him at half past nine in the morning. He's surprised that they're even open. He goes inside and looks for the bar manager. When he locates him, he's about to ask him about Kate when he realizes that he doesn't even have a picture of her. How is the guy supposed to know who he's talking about? He's probably seen a lot of people since then.

Rick has already turned around to leave the way he came when the manager speaks up, "Can I help you, sir?"

Rick turns back and says, "I – uh – You probably don't remember, but I was here two nights ago…"

"Yeah, I remember, you left with the pretty lady," the man grins and Rick flashes him a smile.

"Yes, great! You remember! You haven't seen her here after that have you?" he asks tentatively.

"No, I haven't, but you're not the first to come asking questions. Two detectives were here yesterday, I sent them your way. Sorry about that," he grins.

"No, that's fine," Rick says, "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have known that she's gone missing."

"You need a drink?" the manager says.

"No, thanks. It's too early for that," Rick smiles back. "Thanks for your help, though."

"Sure, man. Like your books, by the way," he grins. Rick nods and thanks him before he leaves the bar.

Well, that was very helpful, he thinks. He already knew that the two detectives who came to see him had been sent here from the bar, so even that's nothing new. He decides to check out her apartment and then call it quits. He's not getting anywhere without any more information.

He takes a cab to her apartment and wonders how he's going to approach this. He could pretend that he's her friend and is just dropping by. He wouldn't classify himself as a friend of her, more like an acquaintance. Probably a one night only acquaintance. But posing as one of her friends might be his best bet, so when he enters the building, he walks up to the doorman. "Hi, I'm looking for Kate Beckett?" he asks.

"Who are you?" he doorman asks.

"I'm a friend of hers. Just dropping by to check in," he says. This isn't going great, he didn't expect the doorman to start asking him questions.

"I've never seen you here before," the man says with a slight frown as if he's trying to recall seeing Rick there before today.

"No, I – uh – we've met pretty recently," he says, he realizes that he had to give the man something more if he wants any information. "At a bar, actually. We got along really well and – well, now I'm here."

The doorman studies his face and then sighs. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this," he says, "but Detective Beckett's colleagues came by yesterday looking for her. Apparently she's gone missing."

Rick feigns shock, mentally thanking his mother for the acting lessons she put him on when he was a kid. "Missing?" he chokes. Even though he already knew, hearing the words out of someone else's mouth still constricts his heart. He wonders why. He doesn't even know the woman and yet he cares so much for her already. "When?" he asks, trying to figure out when the detectives stopped by her place.

"Her partners came here yesterday around eleven, telling me that she hadn't shown up for work that morning. I told them that I hadn't seen her since the morning before, when she left for work. I checked with the night shift, and they hadn't seen her either."

"Damn," Rick mumbles. "Okay, uh, well, thank you, sir."

His thoughts are disorganized and all over the place when he walks home. He realizes that her place is actually not that far from his. He wonders if he's ever met her before two nights ago. He would like to think that he'd remember someone as amazing as Kate Beckett, but he knows that it's very much possible that they've crossed paths before that night and don't even remember it. Well, she might remember, since she seemed to know who he was. She didn't say in so many words, but the way she reacted to certain things tipped him off.

He wonders how she's doing now, if she's hurt. The thought of her being hurt makes him angry. He wants the person that did this to her caught. He wants him to pay. The thought of going by the precinct to see if Detectives Ryan and Esposito have had any luck crosses his mind, but he dismisses it almost immediately. Those guys don't know him. For all they know, he's had a one night stand with their colleague and that's it. If he's honest. That is it. He would come off as some weird creep if he'd go to the precinct for an update.

He knows that there is nothing more for him to do than wait, but something is nagging at the corner of his mind. It tells him to keep looking. If he only knew where.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

* * *

He and Alexis spend the afternoon on her science project. They give the planets their protective layer and put the solar system together. It all takes more time than he expected, but he's okay with that. It takes his mind off of Kate.

Just as he's thinking that and placing the Millennium Falcon somewhere between Jupiter and Mars, there's a knock on the door.

"Just let me get that," he mumbles to Alexis, "I'll be right back." He kisses her head before he walks to the door.

He's a little surprised to find the two detectives from yesterday in front of him again, but quickly recovers. "Detectives," he says, "come in." Detectives Ryan and Esposito nod at him and walk past him and into the loft.

"Daddy?" Alexis's voice sounds from the living room at the sight of two strange men in their home.

"It's okay, Pumpkin," Rick reassures her. "I just have talk to these two gentlemen for a second, is that okay?"

Alexis looks up at the detectives with big eyes, as if she's trying to figure out if they are good or bad guys. Her eyes pause at the badges that are visible at their belts. "Are you policemen?" she asks Detective Ryan, who looks a lot friendlier than his partner.

"Yes, we are," Ryan responds kindly. "And we need your Daddy's help to find a friend of ours, is that okay?"

"So he's not in trouble?" she asks and Rick's heart melts at the question.

Ryan laughs. "No, he's not. We just need his help."

"Okay," Alexis says and smiles at the cop. She seems to have won his heart already, because there is still a smile playing around his lips when Rick leads them into his office.

"How can I help?" he asks.

"Well," Detective Esposito begins, "you seem to be the last person to have spoken with her." He holds up his hand when Rick's about to protest that he didn't kidnap her. "We know you didn't do it. We just have some more questions for you."

"Okay," Rick says.

"Do you know where she lives?" he asks and Rick suddenly feels very hot.

"I – uh – yes," he answers honestly. "I googled her address after you came by and did some digging for myself. I didn't get anywhere, though."

Detective Esposito nods. "The doorman told us that someone has been by," he says. "Just checking."

"You said that she told you that she had just had a bad case. Did she tell you anything about it?" Ryan asks.

Rick frowns, trying to remember. "No, she didn't. I remember that I asked her about it, but she muttered something about it not being closed yet, so she couldn't talk about it. Why?"

"We think that her kidnapping might have something to do with our last case. We've retrieved the security footage from in front of her building and we have found a shot of the kidnapping," Esposito tells him. He wonders why they're sharing all this information with him, but he's not complaining.

"Was anything else visible on the video? A licence plate or tattoo, or something?" Rick asks. He's said it before he realizes that he has. It thrills him to be talking about an actual case with actual cops.

"The van didn't have any plates and the kidnappers wore hoodies, but one of the kidnapper's sleeves slid up his arm while they carried her to the van," Ryan tells him. "There was a gang tattoo on his arm. An Italian mob tattoo."

Rick blanches. The Italian mob? What the hell was she into if those guys wanted to kidnap her?

"Our case, the tough one, was about a guy called Layton Hayes," Ryan says, as if he sensed Rick's thoughts. "The mob tortured him for information, he died protecting it."

"Why would they want to kidnap Kate?" Rick asks.

"We believe that Beckett somehow figured out what the information was that Hayes was protecting. She suddenly had an insight and we arrested the killer, Lorenzo DiVarco. We think that that is what got her kidnapped."

"And you think that they're torturing her right now for that information?" Rick asks. The two men don't even have to answer him, their faces say enough. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"You wrote a book on the Italian mob, once," Ryan says. "We were wondering if might still be in contact with those people." It sounds almost shy coming from the detective.

"Perks of being a writer," Rick mumbles. "We have a guy for everything. I could give him a call."

Detective Esposito nods. "That'd be great, man."

For the first time, Rick notices how tired the two men look. They must be running themselves ragged to find their friend. He can now see how much they care about her.

"Can I get you guys anything in the meantime? Coffee? Lunch?" he asks.

"Coffee would be great," Detective Ryan says.

"Okay, follow me," Rick says and he leads them out of the office and into the kitchen. While the coffeemaker is puttering in the background, he makes his call.

The line rings for a minute before he gets the guy's voicemail.

"Hey, man! It's Rick Castle, how are you doing? I have a question for you, call me back when you get this!" he says energetically into the receiver before he hangs up.

The two cops look disappointed, so he says, "That's how the contact works, I leave him a message and he calls me back on a different phone."

"Okay, here's the thing," Detective Esposito says. "You can't let him know about everything we know. You have to be discreet."

"Don't worry, I can be discreet."

He's just finished his sentence when his phone rings. "Rick Castle," he answers. Detectives Ryan and Esposito share a doubtful glance, but seem to trust him for now.

"Ricky!" the man on the other end greets him. "How's my favourite author?"

"I'm good, man. I'm good! Hey, listen. I'm writing this new book and I'm having some trouble with the details."

"Lay it on me, Ricky," the man says.

"Okay, so my lead gets kidnapped by the Italian mob, right? He has some information that the mob wants, so they torture him. What torture would we be talking about exactly? You know, I want the details to be right."

"Torture, Ricky? There are much more effective ways to get information out of someone and you know it. But say that the kidnappers are impatient and don't want to deal with the more efficient ways, there'd probably be some waterboarding involved. That always works pretty well. Electricity also does its job, but if they really want the information, they'd use the combination."

"Combination?" Rick asks. He thinks he's going to be sick.

"Yes, much more effective if you want quick information. But it can get messy if they use it."

"How long would someone survive that?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Well, if they really want the information, they won't go as far as killing them. Just far enough for them to think they're going to die. After they've talked, it just depends on how much they've pissed us off. But you probably want your guy to escape, right? So you don't have to worry about that part."

"Yeah, no, you're right. One more question. Where would you keep him? Hypothetically speaking, I mean," Rick says.

"Ah, somewhere without any foot traffic. You know, an old hangar or warehouse," the guy tells him.

"Right, got it," Rick says.

"I have to go, Ricky. I have work to do," the guy says.

"Yeah, of course. Thanks, man! Talk to you soon," Rick says and he can feel the gazes of Detectives Ryan and Esposito on him when he hangs up.

"Well?" Detective Ryan asks. Rick can see Alexis's curious gaze on them from the living room.

"Let's go back to the office," he mutters and takes the two coffee cups with him.

As soon as the door of the office is closed, the guys are on him.

"Good news first," he starts. "She's probably not dead yet."

The relief is obvious on their faces, shortly followed by concern. "What else?"

Rick tells them what he's learned from his guy and it leaves them baffled and silent for a minute.

"Well, that's not much to go on," Detective Esposito says. "We could start by searching for every empty warehouse or hangar in the city. But checking them all… that would take days. We don't have that much time."

"Have you tracked her cell phone?" Rick asks.

"Yeah, we did. Didn't give us anything. The phone must be off."

"Her battery was probably dead, too," Rick says. "She didn't charge it here and my phone is dead after a day and night without charging it." He explains, seeing the guys' blank stares.

"Right," Detective Ryan sighs.

"Have you checked with the suspects from your last case? Searched for property in their name? Or on the name of anyone close to them?" he asks, ideas now flooding his mind. "If I were writing it –"

"This is not one of your novels, man," Detective Esposito cuts him off.

"Let him finish," Detective Ryan says. "We haven't checked for property in the name of anyone close to the mob."

"If I were writing it," Rick continues, not paying attention to Detective Esposito's interruption, "I'd have the bad guy own a building where he takes care of his business. But not in his own name, that'd be too straightforward. That way he too easy to find. No, I'd have him sign the name of his mother, or aunt or cousin. Someone who's not involved in the mob."

"That's a good place to start looking for possible places where she could be," Detective Ryan says to his partner. Detective Esposito nods.

"You're right," he says. "Sorry about cutting you off, man."

"That's okay, I am just a writer, right?" Rick tries to joke, but it falls flat. They're all too worried about Kate to be laughing around.

"Okay, we should be going. Start looking for family with old and empty warehouses in their possession," Detective Esposito says. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Castle."

"We'll call you if we find anything," Detective Ryan says with a little smile.

"Thank you." Rick sees them out before he joins Alexis again in the living room.

"What was that about, Daddy?" Alexis asks him.

"They've lost a very dear friend of theirs and they needed my help. Because of my job, I know a lot of people and I had to call someone for them in order to find their friend," he explains. Alexis's eyes grow big.

"Are they going to find their friend now?" she asks him.

"I hope so, sweetheart," he says and he kisses the top of her head.

"Do you know their friend, too?" she asks and he wonders how he should respond.

"I've met her once, yes," he says. "I really liked her."

"Can I meet her? She must be really nice if they're going through all this trouble to find her," she asks and again he doesn't know how to respond to her question. She's so perceptive, but he's never had to answer these kinds of questions before. He always keeps his love interests away from her until he knows that it's actually serious, which is hardly ever. He actually can't remember the last time he introduced one of his girlfriends to Alexis.

"If they find her, I'll see what I can do," he tells her eventually. "Now, shall we finish this awesome solar system? You've done very well on your own I see!"

"Dad!" she sighs, sounding exasperated. "It's a two person job, I've hardly done anything."

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Don't worry," she tells him and puts her small hand on his shoulder. "You were helping those two men to find their friend. That's more important than my science project."

Rick pulls her in for a hug and holds her close for a long time, before she starts to struggle and tells him that they really do need to finish her project before tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter Five**_

* * *

Rick is walking home from taking Alexis to school the next morning when his phone rings. "Rick Castle," he answers when he doesn't recognize the number.

"Mr. Castle, this is Detective Esposito," he man on the other side of the line says.

"Have you found anything?" Rick asks eagerly.

"Nothing concrete, yet. But we were wondering if you wanted to come to the station and look at some of the evidence," the detective says. Ricks step falters. Did he really just say that? Is the NYPD really asking for his help?

"Ah, sure," he says, "I'm on my way."

He flags down a cab as soon as he puts his phone back in his pocket. Still a little stunned, he gives the address of the 12th precinct to the driver. Suddenly he's happy with all the research he's done on Kate Beckett the past couple of days.

He gives the woman behind the front counter his name and tells her that Detective Esposito asked him to come down. She tells him to take a seat while she notifies Homicide. He does as she says and sits down, but only at the edge of the seat.

A couple of minutes later, the elevator dings and he sees a cop in a uniform walk out and towards him. "Richard Castle?" he asks. Rick nods. "Follow me."

Rick jumps up and follows the police officer back into the elevator. He tries to start some small talk with the man, but he doesn't respond, so he falls silent and waits for the elevator to reach its destination. The Homicide floor is buzzing with activity. There are cops everywhere. He's led to two desks where he finds Detectives Ryan and Esposito.

"Castle!" Detective Ryan exclaims, "Good to see you!" Rick shakes his hand, but stares at the cop. He looks tired, like they've been working all night. He just called him Castle. He kind of likes it, but there's a certain companionship to it that unnerves him. He's just a person of interest on their case, why would they treat him like their friend?

"How's the investigation going?" Rick asks.

"Slow, but we're making progress," Detective Esposito tells him. He walks towards a whiteboard that has all the information for the case on it. "We've established a pretty solid timeline. Because of traffic cam footage, we know the exact time of the… disappearance." His hesitation doesn't fool Rick, but he thinks he understands the man's need to try and keep it objective.

"Is that the van in which she was taken?" Rick asks and points to a blurry picture of a black van.

"Yes, it is," Detective Ryan says. "I've tried tracking it from traffic cam to traffic cam, but I lost it after about three blocks. A couple of the cams are broken, so it could've gone anywhere."

"But that was the first thing we did when we found the van," Detective Esposito says. "What kept us up last night is this." He flips the board around, revealing a list of names. "These are family members of the Italian mob nor involved with it directly. All we have to do now is look for properties in their name."

"But there are like fifty names on here!" Rick exclaims.

"That's where you come in," Detective Esposito says.

"Still want to help?" Detective Ryan asks and Rick nods. "Good, come with us."

They lead him into a conference room. The table's completely covered in files. "We have to go through all of these," Detective Ryan says. "LT here has agreed to help us, between the four of us, we should be able to get through them fairly quickly."

The next hour is mostly spent in silence. Once in a while, one of them will comment on something, but nothing really sticks.

"I might have something," LT says. "The cousin of this guy Belluci owns a warehouse on 14th Street, but she lives in Toronto now, so why would she have a warehouse here?"

"What's the woman's name?" Detective Esposito asks.

"Lucille Fowler. Maiden name Ricci," LT answers.

"Ryan, see if you can find any link between Belluci and his cousin," Detective Esposito tells his partner, who nods and leaves the room.

"So now what?" Rick asks.

"Now we keep looking through the rest of the files, see if we can find any other places. Just in case this doesn't pan out," Detective Esposito says. Rick nods and returns to the file he had been checking.

This must be the most boring work he's ever done. He always thought that being a cop was exciting, but this is mind-numbing. But he doesn't complain, he just wants to help them find Kate and he'd do anything for that, so he keeps his mouth shut and keeps going.

After what seems an eternity, Detective Ryan re-enters the room. "Matteo Belluci calls his cousin every week, so they've definitely kept in touch. Also, I've found a money stream going from Belluci's account to hers. Or, to be specific, to her husband's, Andrew Fowler."

"Okay, that should be enough for a warrant," Detective Esposito says.

"Really? Your partner is missing and you _still_ need a warrant to possibly save her?" Rick says incredulously.

"Yeah," Detective Ryan sighs. "Welcome to the NYPD, we need a warrant for everything."

"Let's just hope that we can find a judge who can sign off on it within an hour," Detective Esposito says. Rick can tell that both detectives are itching to get moving and save their partner.

"I have to make a call," Rick suddenly says and leaves the room. He unlocks his phone and quickly finds the right phone number.

"Ricky! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Judge Markway answers his phone.

"Hey!" Rick answers enthusiastically. "Glad to have reached you! We missed you at last week's poker game. We should play golf sometime soon. Catch up. Hey, listen. I am trying to help two NYPD detectives find their partner and we think we might have found her, but they need a warrant. Any chance you can sign it?"

" _You're_ helping the NYPD?" the judge says incredulously.

"Yeah, who knew I would sink so low?" Rick jokes.

"All right, Ricky. What's it about?" the judge says after a chuckle.

"The cousin of a guy in the Italian mob owns a warehouse, and we think that there's a good chance that's where Detective Beckett is," Rick explains. Calling Kate by her title suddenly sounds strange, but he tries to keep it professional.

"What does this detective mean to you?" the judge asks.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Ricky! You're not just helping the cops… There must be something in it for you!"

"I… They…" he stammers. He tells himself to get it together. "I met her once, I'd like to get to know her better."

He can hear a soft chuckle at the other end of the line. "Fine, you can have your warrant, Rick. Detective Beckett is one of the best, I'd hate to lose her."

Rick frowns, Markway knows Kate? He's overcome with the desire to start asking him questions about her, but he refrains. They need to find her. That's the first priority.

"Thank you, I owe you," he says.

"Hardly. You do owe me that golfing trip," the judge says.

"You're on," Rick agrees. "Talk to you soon." He hangs up the phone and goes back into the conference room where Detectives Ryan and Esposito and LT are staring at him.

"You've got your warrant," he says.

"What? Already?" Detective Ryan says.

"I know a guy." He flashes a smile, reminding them of who he is. "Now get that piece of paper and go save your partner."

(…)

For the first time in days, some of the fog lifts from Kate Beckett's brain. Her entire body hurts. Her lungs burn, every movement feels heavy and nearly impossible. She still pushes herself up from the ground. She refuses to look weak, so she eases back against the wall, even though every muscle screams at her to lay back down. She doesn't know if anyone is watching, but she doesn't want to take the chance.

After a minute, she lifts her head from the spot where it was leaning against the wall and inspects her surroundings. There's not much to see. Bare, grey walls. That's basically all she can see in the dim light coming from a flickering lamp.

She takes a deep breath and ignores her burning lungs as she tries not to let the panic overtake her. She's sure that Ryan and Esposito are looking for her. She's sure that her partners will do everything in their power to find her.

On her next breath, she tries to remember what happened to her. She remembers that she was on her way home from… Shit. He probably doesn't even care that she's missing. She's just another notch on his bedpost now. He seemed sweet that morning, though. His coffee was to die for. She wonders if she should return the mug he gave her. She probably should.

But that's for her to worry about when she gets out of here. For now, she tries to remember what happened when she got ambushed. She knows that was drugged, the fogginess that still rests on her thoughts is evidence of that. But why? And what happened afterwards?

She thinks back to the moments she was conscious for the torture they put her through with a wince. They were asking her questions… One question in particular, but the fog in her mind prevents her from remembering what the question was. She does remember that the men were speaking with an accent. It sounded Italian, but she doesn't trust her own senses right now, so she can't be sure.

She remembers the water surrounding her, the ice in her lungs. Every time they pulled her out, she was fighting for a breath while they asked her that one question.

 _Who?_

It suddenly comes back to her. The question they'd keep asking her was, "Who?"

She realizes that she knows the answer, but she also knows that she didn't share that knowledge with her attackers and that pissed them off. It caused them to shove her head under water again and again until she blacked out once more.

Who are they after? What was the information the journalist, Leyton Hayes, died for? She knows that she knows, but her fuzzy mind refuses to provide her with the answer. She tries to remember the case.

Leyton Hayes was brutally murdered about two weeks ago, after being tortured with the same methods she has endured the past couple of days. She remembers that they went too far with him and it became his death.

She now realizes that they've gone easy on her. Maybe because they thought they might get the information out of her eventually, or maybe just because they didn't want to kill a cop. Either way, she's thankful to still be alive.

The fog in her mind slowly retreats as the time passes and she tries to recall any other details. Anything that can give her a clue as to where she is. But her drugged mind doesn't seem to have stored the information she needs. All it gives her is a pair of blue eyes.

She focuses on them for a moment, remembers the way they looked when darkened with arousal, remembers the way they looked when they opened in the morning and focused on her. The wonder in them when she locked eyes with him that morning. He had looked at her as if she was the entire world to him.

She shakes her head, deciding her drugged mind must be playing tricks on her. There's no way that Richard Castle could be interested in her for more than sex. Yes, he was very sweet that morning, but she's sure there was nothing more behind it. She's sure that he has every intention to never see her again.

Some shouting somewhere far away pulls her out of her thoughts. Another shout, followed by a gunshot, follows suit closer by. She recognizes some voices, though she cannot place them. The urge to do something fills her, so she gathers all of her strength and, with the help of the wall behind her, she drags herself to her feet.

"Beckett!" a voice calls out somewhere far away.

"Here!" she tries to yell back, but the pain in her throat holds her back. Her voice is hoarse from disuse and all she manages is a screech she's sure doesn't reach past the heavy door. Her throat burns as she clears it and tries again. This time it sounds a little more confident as she ignores the pain.

"Ryan!" she hears someone yell just outside the door. "Over here!"

A lot of heavy footsteps approach the door. "Beckett, you there?" she hears Ryan's voice call out.

"Ryan!" It's all she can think to say.

"We're going to take down the door, just step back!" he instructs.

Take down the door? He doesn't think that he can just kick a metal door in, right? Her fuzzy mind refuses to understand. She hasn't moved from the spot she rose to, so there's no stepping back either. On instinct, she braces herself to her wall that's holding her up.

Then there's a loud bang and a flash. They blew the door out. Well, that's one way, she thinks.

Through the smoke, a body appears. Ryan. Then he's by her side and cuts her ties. She finally moves from her spot and hugs him. He holds her up as he leads her outside to the car. Somewhere, she registers the curious looks of the cops around her. She must look like hell, but she doesn't care.

The fresh air burns in her irritated throat. "Here," Ryan says quietly when they reach the car and carefully helps her sit down. "The EMTs are on their way."

Esposito comes over soon after that, telling her that he was on the other side of the warehouse taking down some of the scumbags that took her. It's a little hazy to her, but she nods anyway.

From that moment on, everything is extremely slow yet extremely fast and before she really realizes it, she's on her way to the precinct.

"There's someone who's very anxious to see you," Espo says with a little smirk. Beckett frowns. Who could that be? Lanie? Her father? She's sure that both of them are very anxious to see her, but neither of them is someone to be smirking over.

She decides not to give in to his teasing. She will get her answer fast enough. All she has to do is walk through the elevator doors and onto homicide floor.

Upon doing so, she is swept up in a hug by the last person she expected to see.

(…)

"God, I'm so glad you're okay," he breathes into her ear. He's so relieved that see her again. Even if she is stiff in his embrace.

He studies her when he releases her. Her shoulders are slightly slumped from what he suspects is exhaustion. Her skin is pale and she is shaking slightly. But her eyes are what get to him as she looks up at him. For a second, they are haunted. But then it's gone and she straightens her back and says, "I have to speak to my captain."

She walks past him and enters Captain Montgomery's office. Ryan follows her and the door shuts firmly behind them and stays closed for a long time.

He gets led to a chair by Esposito who explains to him what happened at the warehouse.

"I've just got one question," he says at the end of Esposito's story. "What was the information Leyton Hayes was protecting? And now Beckett?" Her last name feels foreign on his tongue, but it doesn't seem appropriate to call her Kate right now.

Esposito sighs and shoots a glance towards the captain's office. "I might as well tell you," he mutters. "One of our own has infiltrated the Italian mob. They have figured out that they've got a mole and since Leyton Hayes seemed to know who their mole was, they tried to get it out of him. Obviously, Hayes died before telling them a name. Beckett figured out that the mole was one of us, a cop, during the investigation. With his help we were able to arrest the killer. They must've realized that we've had help from the inside to solve our case and since Beckett was head investigator…" he trails off, letting Rick finish that sentence by himself.

In that moment, the door to Captain Montgomery's office opens and Ryan and Kate come out followed by the captain himself, who is telling her, "Go home, Detective. I don't want to see you here for at least three days."

He sees her nod, but the set of her jaw tells him that she's not happy with the order. The sigh that follows when she approaches her desk confirms his suspicion. She'd rather work than sit at home, doing nothing.

He carefully approaches her, clears his throat to remind her of his presence. She turns around and gives him a weak smile. "You still here?" she asks.

"Detective Esposito told me what happened. Are you okay?" he asks, knowing it's the most stupid question ever. Of course she's not okay. She's been tortured.

"I'm fine," she tells him and turns back to her desk, where she's packing a bag. "You should go home."

He sighs and nods. She's right. He should go home. They don't even know each other. It's none of his business. So he turns around and is already halfway through the precinct when he hears her voice call him back.

"Mr. Castle?" she says and he turns back around. She smiles at him. It's feeble, but it's there. "Thank you." He nods and offers a smile in return. He steps into the elevator, on his way to return to his kid.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

* * *

Weeks pass and he doesn't hear from her. He's gone on with his life. He has been taking care of his daughter. He has been writing a new book. Admittedly, the book is about her abduction, but at least he's writing again and he thinks it's some of the best stuff he's written yet.

"Dad?" Alexis asks him one night, during dinner.

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"Have you heard anything from those two police officers who came by a couple of weeks ago?" He's surprised that she remembers the two men since she hardly interacted with them. They must've left an impression. "Did they find their friend?"

"They did, honey," he smiles. "And they were very happy that they did."

"And you helped them?" she asks.

"I did help them a little bit," he admits, "but I don't doubt that they would've found her without my help."

"Was she okay?"

Rick thinks about how to answer her question. He doesn't want to tell her the full story, even though she's very mature for her age. He doesn't want to scare her. But he doesn't want to lie to her either.

"The people who took her weren't very nice to her, so she wasn't really okay," he carefully tells her.

"But she will be okay, right?" Alexis asks him with big eyes that are filled with sympathy for Kate.

"I hope so, Pumpkin," he says. He wishes that he could call her and ask her how she's doing. Then again, he could just call Detective Ryan and ask him. But he'd like to talk to her again.

"I hope so, too," she says quietly. "Her friends were really nice."

"Yeah, they were," he says and then changes the subject to the new project she's doing in school. He fully intends to distract her the rest of the evening with the Harry Potter marathon he promised her. He won't let her watch all the films in one go. They've made a compromise to watch one film a day. Today will be the first film and by the end of the week, he's promised her that they're going to watch the latest one in the cinema since it's just been released.

"Okay! We've got the popcorn, candy and hot cocoa," he says. "Am I forgetting anything?"

"Yes!" she exclaims. "You forgot the blankets! You can't have a Harry Potter marathon without blankets."

He points to his nose and then to her, to tell her he's got her. "Smart girl," he says and opens the closet to grab some blankets.

As he tosses them over the back of the couch, there's a knock on the door. He frowns in confusion. He doesn't know anyone who would just come over without calling first.

The door opens to someone he thought he'd never see again. She looks almost shy as she stares up at him in surprise as if she hadn't expected him to open the door.

She looks so different from what she looked like when they first met. Now, she's wearing jeans and an NYPD sweatshirt that looks very comfortable. Her eyes don't look as haunted as they did when he left her at the precinct, but she still seems skittish. Her eyes shoot from him to the hallway and back, as if she expects someone else to be there. As if she thinks that someone has followed her.

"Kate?" he asks incredulously.

"Hi," she says, "I – I came by to… ah… I wanted to return your coffee cup." She stammers through the sentence as she holds up the reusable coffee cup he gave her the morning after they met. He hesitantly raises his hand to take the cup from her.

"How are you?" he asks her as he opens the door further to let her through. She hesitates before crossing the threshold.

"Better every day," she tells him honestly. After she brushed him off at the precinct with an _I'm fine_ he expects her to do the same now. He doesn't expect her honesty. He gives her an appreciative smile for it.

"Glad to hear it," he says. He then remembers that his daughter is still on the couch waiting for him. "Alexis, come here for a second. I want you to meet someone."

Kate's eyes grow big for a second. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," she tries to apologize, already half turned and on her way to leave again.

"Nah, we we're just getting ready for a Harry Potter marathon, weren't we, Pumpkin?" he says as Alexis climbs over the back of the couch to meet her father's friend. "Kate, this is Alexis. Alexis, this is Kate. She is the friend of the two detectives who came by a couple of weeks ago."

"Hi, Alexis," Kate says and she holds out her hand to shake the girl's. "I'm honoured to meet you."

"Hi," Alexis answers shyly. "I'm happy that your friends found you. Dad said that the people who took you were mean to you."

Kate smiles a little and meets Rick's eyes for a second. "I heard your dad helped save me. That kind of makes him my hero." He notices that a faint blush colours her cheeks as she stage whispers the words to his daughter, acting as if he is not allowed to hear them.

"I hardly did anything," he mutters. He knows that isn't exactly true, he basically gave Ryan and Esposito her location.

"I heard you found me," Kate corrects. "So I also came by to thank you again. Sorry it took so long."

"You're welcome," Rick tells her sincerely. "It was my pleasure."

"Dad," Alexis says quietly, "can we ask her if she wants to join us for the marathon?"

"Sure, go ahead and ask her," Rick answers. He's sure that she already heard the question, but he lets Alexis ask her anyway.

"Kate?" she starts. "My dad and I were wondering if you wanted to join us for our Harry Potter marathon?"

Rick thinks she's about to say no. For all he knows, she's an incredibly private person and there's no reason why she would want to spend a night watching movies with someone who's practically a stranger and his daughter.

But she surprises him again by saying, "I'd love to, Alexis."

That's how they end up on the couch ten minutes later, gazes glued to the television where Harry is serving his aunt, uncle, and cousin bacon and eggs. Alexis is snuggled into his side and it wouldn't surprise him if she doesn't even make it through the film without falling asleep. She's had a pretty exhausting day. That afternoon she went to Paige's birthday party and from what he's heard, Paige's mother tired them out pretty thoroughly.

Kate is seated on his other side. Her eyes are on the screen, but he's not sure if she's watching the film. Her back is stiff against the back of the couch and her jaw is set. He's got to try and make her relax a little bit. It looks like she needs an evening off.

"I wish I could talk to snakes," he mutters when Harry sets up the python against his cousin. "That one seems really nice. I think it'd make for very interesting conversation."

"Shush, Dad," Alexis tells him. "You're ruining the film with your talking."

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. When he eyes the woman on his other side, her jaw seems less tense than a moment before, but he might be just imagining it. That is until a small smile starts playing around her lips and she turns her head to looks at him. Busted.

He quickly turns back to the TV and pretends that he wasn't just blatantly staring at her. She already told him that his staring is creepy and he doesn't want to make her even more uncomfortable than she already is.

He keeps making tiny comments on the film. Every time Alexis tells him to shut up – just not those words, he raised her better than that – and every time Kate seems to relax just a little bit more.

"I really hate Malfoy in the first couple of films," she suddenly mutters.

"Yeah, me too," he says. Then he puts on a high voice and yells, "Wait 'till my father hears about this!" Alexis giggles at his antics and he would bet his Ferrari on it that he hears Kate chuckle.

After that, Kate and Alexis start making jokes about the film too and none of them can watch it seriously anymore. Not even Alexis.

Alexis manages to stay awake during most of the film because of their banter, but it has been a long day and by the end of the film, she's having trouble keeping her eyes open.

After he's put his daughter to bed, he re-joins the woman on the couch.

"Thank you again for saving me," she says quietly. "And for tonight. It really helped getting my mind off of it."

"You're welcome," he smiles. "How've you been?"

She visibly hesitates before answering him. "It's… It's been difficult. I had a couple of days off after… after I got back." She looks down at her lap, at her clasped hands. "But being at home with nothing to do… I'd rather have a case to focus my thoughts on, so I returned as soon as my captain let me back into the precinct. That helped. Working helps. But as soon as I get home, I have my mind to myself again and the nightmares start replaying themselves."

She stutters, as if she thinks she might have said too much. She looks up at him, eyes panicked. "I should go," she suddenly says and jumps up from the couch. "It's getting late and I have to work in the morning."

He doesn't want to push her too much and from what he just saw, she already told him more than she ever intended to tell him. Or anyone, probably. So he follows her to the door and helps her into her coat.

The moment he thinks she's going to leave, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek. He smiles, "What was that for?"

"To say thank you again," she mutters, then she looks up at him. "If there's anything I can do to repay you…" She leaves it hanging, but he gets it.

"Don't be a stranger."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

* * *

With a sigh, Kate drops her pen out of her cramped hand after filing the last piece of paperwork on her latest case. It was a gruelling one and she's glad that it's over. She can't wait to get home, order some Thai and read a book surrounded by bubbles, accompanied by some wine.

"All right, boys!" she calls across the bullpen. "I'm done, I'm going home."

Ryan and Esposito look up from their respective paperwork, which they're actually doing for once. "Need me to give you a ride, Beckett?" Ryan asks. He's dropped her off at home more and more often since _it_ happened.

"No, I'm okay," she says. "Thanks for the offer, though. But do me a favour and go home. We've all had a tough week."

They look at her as if she's gone crazy, but after a second, they nod and start packing up. They exit the building together and part ways when they reach the parking garage. Beckett slides into her own unmarked car with a heavy sigh. She loves everyone for being so concerned for her, but sometimes she just needs to be left alone. Like right now.

On the drive home, she tries to take her mind off of the case. She turns on the radio in the hopes of anything interesting, but it's just bad music, so she turns it off again. Finally, she stops trying to distract herself from the case and just focuses on the traffic, which isn't doing a very good job at distracting her.

When she walks through her front door, she drops her keys and bag on the table next to the door and slips out of her coat. She shudders. Her apartment feels chilly after the nice warmth of her car and she quickly turns on the heater. After that, she shuffles into the bathroom to get the bath ready. While she waits for it to fill, she pours a glass of wine and calls the Thai restaurant to order some food. They tell her that it could take about half an hour before it's ready. Perfect. That way she can enjoy her bath before dinner.

On her way back to the bathroom, she grabs a book from her nightstand. She strips out of her clothes and lets herself slide into the hot water.

A knock on her door half an hour later announces her food. When she opens the door, the bags of Thai are held by someone she knows.

"Mr. Castle?" she asks incredulously.

"I ran into the delivery guy just a minute ago, thought I'd take it from there."

"I'm not going to pay you," she tells him.

"Oh, don't worry. I paid the guy, tipped him generously too," he winks. "By the way, you spent a night with me and my daughter watching _Harry Potter_ , so you don't have to call me Mr. Castle. Rick's fine. Can I come in?"

She's shocked for a second by the maelstrom of words that just came out of his mouth. Then, she takes a step back to let him in. As he passes her, he brushes his lips along her cheek in a greeting.

"Where can I put these?" he asks as he walks further into the apartment.

"Just put them on the counter," she tells him. After a moment of internal debate whether she should invite him to join her for dinner, she realizes she's actually not in the mood to socialize. Instead she opts for asking the reason he came. "So what's up?"

" _What's up?_ I haven't heard from you in a while, so I was wondering how you're doing," he says.

"I'm fine," she mumbles. She knows that he knows that she's not. She can feel his scrutinizing gaze on her, but refuses to look him in the eye. Instead, she focuses on unpacking the bags of takeout.

"You look tired," he says. She clenches her teeth. Who's he to talk? He doesn't even know her. He's seen her all of three times. Four now.

"I said I'm fine," she snaps. She doesn't want to tell him about the nightmares that are keeping her up at night. She doesn't want to tell him that all she wants is to curl up under his sinfully soft bedsheets and use his warmth as a shield against her dreams. There's no way that he should be this important to her already and it irks her. It feels wrong. And yet – with the way he's looking at her right now… No, she's not even going there. She's irritated with him; she's not going to let him charm her with those cute puppy dog eyes.

She turns around to face him when she has unpacked all the Styrofoam boxes and has lost her reason to hide her face from him. She realizes that he hasn't said anything after she snapped at him. "Mr. Castle – " she starts, but he interrupts her.

"I told you, you can call me Rick."

" _Mr. Castle_ ," she starts again as she shoots him a look that warns him not to interrupt her again, "I've had a very long week and I just wanted a quiet night in."

"That's okay," he says, pretending he hasn't caught her silent plea for him to leave. "I can be quiet." At that, she raises her eyebrow. "Somewhat quiet," he adapts.

"I'm not going to get rid of you, am I?" she asks after she assesses him for a minute.

"No. You're not," he says. "I asked you not to be a stranger. Apparently, you don't know how to do that, so I'm going to teach you."

"By showing up unannounced _and_ uninvited and annoying the crap out of me?" she says.

"Well, that's one way," he says. "Would've been easier if you would've just answered your phone."

"So you thought you'd just stop by? You didn't stop to think that maybe I didn't answer the phone because I don't want to talk?" She winces. She didn't mean to say that. She _does_ want to talk to him. But she knows that he'll ask her how she's doing and he can see through her lies. So she figured that avoiding him was easier.

His face drops in disappointment. "You don't want to talk to me?" he says, deflated.

"No, that's not…" she tries to amend. She sighs. Why is it so hard to just say what she means? "I do want to talk to you. I just don't want to _talk_."

He looks confused. She doesn't blame him; her contradicting feelings confuse her too. She _likes_ having him around. At least, she did last time. He cheers her up and makes her forget about her nightmares.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm not making sense."

She struggles to come up with an explanation that doesn't involve telling him how she's been. He just waits her out, seems to realize she needs to work through this.

After a couple of minutes of silence, he says, "You should eat. It's getting cold."

She nods and gestures for him to join her. She needs some more time to figure out how to deal with this situation, but she doesn't want dinner to be awkwardly silent, so she asks, "How's Alexis?"

He shoots her a look that says she's not getting out of it so easily. She answers it with slight nod of her head, indicating she knows that. "She's been good. Excited for the holidays," he says with a fond smile.

"But those are still a month away," she says.

"Yeah, I know," he grins. She notices that Alexis isn't the only one who's excited for the holidays.

"What are your plans for the holidays?" she asks, hoping to keep him talking.

"Well, I promised Alexis that we'll stay in the city this year. We spend the holidays either here in the city or in the Hamptons. She says she likes it better here."

"The Hamptons?" Kate asks.

"Oh, yeah. We have a little place by the beach," he waves her off. It reminds her that he is a bestselling author and probably has a lot of money. She wonders how _little_ that house by the beach really is.

"What do you like better? The beach or the city?" she asks.

"Well, the beach is always beautiful and peaceful during winter. Though it can get a little depressing, so I get why Alexis likes the city better. And I kind of have to agree with her. Nothing can beat the festive buzz the city gets during Christmas."

"If you like the city better, why did you go to the Hamptons?" she asks.

He looks pensive for a moment, as if he's trying to decide if he should tell her. He seems to come to a decision, though, because he says, "Last year, I got divorced near the end of November so I was in a bit of a depressing mood. The beach seemed to fit that mood."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. She appreciates his honesty though. Especially since she can't seem to find it in herself to tell him the truth.

"That's okay. I'm over it now. I realize now that I never really loved her. It was a marriage of convenience."

They finish eating in silence. After clearing the table, she offers him a cup of coffee. When she starts making a cup of tea for herself, he says, "I never pegged you for a tea drinker."

"I'm not. Not really anyway. I like coffee better, but – " She stops. She wants to tell him. She wants to be honest with him. The words just seem to fail her.

"You're still having nightmares," he says quietly. Nightmares? How does he know about that? Oh right, she told him last time they saw each other.

She nods. It's easier to nod, it doesn't require words. Sentences. "I've been having trouble sleeping," she finds herself saying. "So I switched to tea at night."

"You want to talk about it?" he asks carefully.

He's being sweet for not pushing her too much, but she shakes her head. "Not right now."

"Can I tell you a story?" he asks.

"Sure," she says. She doesn't really care, to be honest. She just doesn't want there to be a silence so she can think about her nightmares some more. Because she's been doing that enough already.

Before she realizes that he's actually not talking but moving, he walks to her refrigerator. He takes out a carton of milk and grabs two mugs from the same cupboard she had just taken the two cups for their coffee and tea. He pours the milk and puts the mugs into the microwave.

"When I was younger," he starts, "my mother always used to make me warm milk when I'd had a nightmare. I never really wanted to talk about them. Apparently, I have a very vivid imagination." He pauses to take out the milk. "She knew that I would tell her when the fear had settled down a little. So she would make me warm milk and sat by me as I calmed down."

Kate smiles as he slides onto the stool next to her. He slides over one of the mugs to her. She foregoes her cup of tea for the mug of warm milk to wrap her hands around. "So that's what you're going to do for me?" she asks.

He nods, "If you're willing." She looks down at her mug. "If you're not, I'm perfectly happy just drinking my milk... or coffee. Sorry about that."

She smiles at that. "It's fine. Thanks," she says, then after a beat she asks, "What were your nightmares generally about?" She's deflecting his request of her sharing her own nightmares. She knows she is. She knows he knows it, too. But his story about him needing to calm down first as a kid sticks with her. Maybe his story – his voice – will calm her down.

"There was one…" he ponders, a frown appearing between his eyebrows. "I was about eight and I don't remember how it started, but I remember being in Central Park with my mother and some friends. It was the middle of the night and there was a full moon shining through the trees. There were pillars on the grass – four pillars – and we were hiding behind them. Something flew by the moon and made the light flicker. It was one of those creepy witches who cackle when they laugh and have warts on their incredibly long noses.

"The witch didn't scare me at first, but then something happened. I don't remember very clearly what exactly, maybe something with the witch throwing fire or stars, but it's possible I've made it up over the years. I do know that the witch kept flying from one end to the other and that we shouted things at each other. I couldn't understand the words, but we sounded scared. My friends and I were hiding behind one pillar and we were trying to get my mother to join us. On her way to us, the witch grabbed my mother and kidnapped her on her broomstick."

The frown disappears and he shrugs. "The next night it had a sequel. It was terrible. The witch had taken my mother to another planet where she kept her in a spikey cage. As soon as my friends and I landed on the planet, we were caught and thrown into the cage with her. I don't remember how it happened, but we escaped and flew back home on the witch's broomstick.

"They seem stupid now, sound like a bad children's film, but the full moon made my hairs stand on end for years."

"Why was the second dream not as scary as the first one?" Kate asks.

"I don't know." He's quiet for a minute, seeming to think it through. "I think," he says thoughtfully, "part of it has to do with the fact that it was my mother who was in danger in the first one. When I'm the one who's in danger in dreams, I always seem to wave it off with humour. It just doesn't scare me as much as someone I love being in danger."

"In my dreams, people I love are being tortured the way I was," she finds herself saying. She looks down at her now empty mug. She can feel that the question of what happened to her is on the tip of his tongue. She's happy he stays quiet, though. If he'd ask her that question now, she'd just retreat back into her shell. She knows herself well enough to realize that and she hates herself for it. Why can't she just _talk_ about things?

Baby steps. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to tell him about her nightmares. "I relive parts of it. The torture. But I'm never the one being physically tortured. It's always someone else and I have to watch. There's nothing I can do about it." Images flash through her mind and she only realizes that she's crying when she feels his arms slip around her.

He smells like he did that night – minus the alcohol – and she feels herself relax into his embrace. She hasn't realized how much she's needed a hug. Hasn't realized how much she's yearned for a hug. The warmth of another human being embracing her. It doesn't hurt that the human being in question smells so amazing.

When she has control over her actions again, she pulls back. One look at his face tells her that he needed the hug, too. She doesn't know why, but her disappearance has unnerved him more than one would expect.

"I should go," he suddenly says. "You said you just wanted a quiet night in anyway." He gets up and already has his coat halfway on when she finds her voice.

"You know, quiet nights in are overrated. You could stay if you want." It's a thank you and an apology in one.

* * *

 _ **I'm going to France for two months this Wednesday and I have three chapters left... Only solution is to post a chapter a day. Hope you won't mind. ;) Xx**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

* * *

It's been a few weeks since Rick's seen her. They've been talking, though. The morning after he spent the evening on her couch, watching some crappy TV show she seemed to enjoy, she texted him. The text was just two words, but it was enough to make him smile. _Thank you._ He replied by sending her a picture of a baby penguin that looks like it was about to hug her with the words _you're welcome_ attached.

They've been texting and calling ever since. Sending each other silly pictures and talking about nonsensical things. He's also been trying to get her to take a day off, but her schedule has been so crazy that today is her first day off in weeks. She asked him to meet her at a coffee shop he's never heard of, but it's easy enough to find. It's one of those places where the walls are filled with books you can read while you drink your coffee. He can't believe he's never heard of it.

He walks into the coffee shop and spots her right away. She's curled up on one of the fauteuils in the corner, reading… no way. There's no way that she reading _that_. He smiles to himself and stores the fact away for later.

Right now, he should get her a cup of coffee. He stands in line and orders her a cup of coffee before joining her in her corner. "I didn't think a girl like you would read chick-lit," he says as he plants her cup on the table in between them.

She looks up, eyes glittering. "No? What kind of books would a girl like me read, Rick?" she asks, challenging him.

"I don't know, something more intelligent?" he says.

"Oh, so now I'm dumb? Or did you think I'd wait for you here whilst reading one of your books?" she mocks.

He looks at her, trying to figure out which answer would get him into trouble the least.

"Well, I like it, so don't judge," she eventually mutters as she puts the book aside. "Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

"Sure," he smiles. "How long have you been here?" He motions towards the mug that already sits on the table.

"A while," she says, "my apartment was too quiet, so I figured I might just as well read something light here."

He nods. "That still bothers you?" he asks quietly. She clenches her jaw. She doesn't like to talk about it, so he hardly ever asks about her PTSD. But now, she gave him a reason to ask about it so he took the chance.

She looks down, starts to trace the letters of the title of her book with her long fingers. "Sometimes," she eventually says. "It's okay, most of the time. When I come home from work, I don't mind the quiet. But this morning… I came home from my run and it was too much. So I came here."

She doesn't look at him when she tells him this. He wonders if it makes it easier for her to talk about it when she's not looking at him. Maybe she pretends that he's not there and that she says the words to an empty space.

"I'm seeing a therapist," she mutters when he stays silent. He smiles at her.

"That's good. Does it help?"

"I don't know," she finally looks up from her hand. Her eyes are wide, like she almost said something she doesn't want to say. She looks vulnerable. He didn't mean to make today about her problems. He just wanted to see her. See for himself how she's doing. And he's jumped into heavy conversation headfirst. "Some days it feels like it does. Some days it feels like it doesn't."

"Can I help?" he asks carefully. "Somehow?"

She shakes her head. Eyes back on the book. "It takes time. I just hope that the good days will be more frequent than the bad ones."

"You know you can call me, right? Good day or bad," he says.

She smiles up at him. "Thanks," she whispers. It's so quiet he almost doesn't hear it, but it's there. He nods and they're quiet for a moment. He struggles to come up with something that's less serious. It's different than he imagined, talking to her face to face again. He thought it would be as easy as texting or talking over the phone. But being able to see her, see her reactions, the way she sometimes struggles with an answer – it's harder. The easy banter they had going over the phone is hard to find.

He realizes that they've been quiet for too long and asks the first question coming to mind, "So, what's your book about?"

She chuckles. "A friend recommended it to me. Said it was an easy read. It's cute, silly and light."

"You're deflecting," he points out and she grins at him. It seems like she almost sticks her tongue out, but refrains the last second.

"It's about a girl, Sophie, who works in a teashop in a small town in England. Then this famous actor, Billy, comes into town because they're shooting a movie there, or close by. He starts visiting the teashop every morning to learn his lines and they hit it off. They start seeing each other and after he's wrapped his film, she moves in with him in London. But she's very shy and closed off and all of a sudden she's in the big city and the girlfriend of the big heartthrob of the moment, so ensue drama. That's where I am now, so you'll have to wait for the rest of the story until I'm finished."

He stares at her, surprised at the way she told him about the book. He expected a short sentence, but he basically got a rundown of the first half of the book.

"What?" she asks when she catches him staring. A blush is already creeping up her cheeks. She's being cute.

"Nothing," he says quickly. "You just surprised me."

"What? With my amazing summary?" she scoffs. "I'm not going to tell you how it ends by the way."

"But… but you just said I'll have to wait for the rest of the story until you're finished!" he splutters.

"Yeah, well. I've changed my mind," she grins. "You can borrow the book when I've finished it."

He huffs. He might borrow it, just to see what kind of books she likes to read, but he'll have to make sure that Alexis and his mother will never ever catch him reading it. He can already hear them making fun of him.

"You know," she says, "the story line kind of reminds me of us. I mean, not the whole boyfriend, girlfriend, moving in with each other part, of course…" He feels a pang in his heart. She doesn't see him as a possible boyfriend. He hasn't realized how much he's already put his heart into this relationship until she shoots down the idea. Of course, they hadn't talked about it, but it seemed obvious to him that that was where they were heading. Now, he's suddenly not so sure anymore.

He realizes that she's still talking. "But I'm this closed off person and you're kind of famous, so yeah, it reminds me of us. Hey, you okay?" she suddenly asks. "You zoned out for a second there."

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine," he mutters. Her eyebrows furrow for a second, which tells him that she doesn't believe him, but she lets it go.

He searches his mind for something to say and get her attention off of him. "I – uh – Sounds like an interesting book," he mutters.

"Yeah, like I said… it's light and cute. Kind of just what I need right now," she says, still eyeing him suspiciously. "Seriously, what's wrong? I won't have this awkward conversation with you about a book you don't care about. So tell me what's wrong and we can move on."

"Nothing is wrong," he says, not willing let her know how much her throwaway comment hurt him. But he'll have to step up his game and get it out of his head so it won't be an awkward conversation. "And I do care about your book. If you want me to read it, I will. I won't say I'll like it, though." He winces for show.

She smacks his leg with the book. "It's not that bad. Don't judge what you don't know."

"Fine," he grumbles. "Just don't force me into reading it. It's looks very girly."

She looks down in an idle attempt to hide her blush.

"Did you just say _kind of famous_?" he asks suddenly as the conversation comes back to him. She looks up with a little frown that's drawing her eyebrows together. "I think I deserve a bit more credit than that, right?"

"Seriously?" she says and looks at him like he's gone crazy. "Have you ever set a foot outside of your circle of groupies?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" he says, but it comes out a bit harsher than he meant it to be.

"Well, that's not stepping very far outside of that circle," she says without thinking.

"Wait, what? You're calling yourself a groupie?"

Her face turns beet red. "No, of course not!"

"I think you just did," he grins. "Who'd have known? Kate Beckett is a fan." He sends her a smug smile. Acts like everything is okay. Acts like he's amused by her offhandedly admitting to liking his books by not answering. He ignores the burn he feels in his heart. He's just a friend to her. Maybe not even that, just a one night stand. A one night stand that's still following her around like a puppy.

He doesn't know how much longer he can keep up the façade of acting like nothing's going on and she's already wondering if there's something wrong. Sooner rather than later she'll probably manage to get him to talk with her detective skills.

"I should go," he suddenly says. "I just remembered that I have an appointment with my publisher about my next book." The excuse is weak, but she doesn't say anything about it. Just wishes him good luck and picks up her book again.

On his walk home, his mind wanders. He keeps going over the little time they've spent together. Has he been reading her all wrong? He must have, because he thought that they were on the same page on where their relationship was heading. After that first night together, in his mind, there was no other possible outcome. He had been under the impression that she just needs to recover from her kidnapping, get her head on straight again before jumping into a relationship with him. It makes him feel like an idiot.

He opens the text thread of the last couple of weeks and re-reads the short conversations. Now he knows that she has no feelings for him, he sees that he comes off as very desperate, while she just responds to his messages with a couple of jokes.

Maybe he should just be happy with having someone that extraordinary as a friend and cherish that one amazing night in his memories.

* * *

 _ **The book Kate is talking about is Billy and Me by Giovanna Fletcher, if you're interested :)**_


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter 9_**

* * *

 _Want to come over for dinner tonight?_

The text comes in a little after noon. The invitation surprises Kate. She doesn't know what happened, but somewhere in the last week he started to act differently. He's somehow managed to be more distanced without being more distanced. Or maybe she's just imagining it. She does miss him. How crazy is that? So she texts him that she will be there after she texts Lanie that she's in desperate need for girl-talk.

"Guys, I'm going to the morgue," she tells Ryan and Esposito. They each give her a distracted nod before carrying on with trying to sort out the victim's bank files.

As soon as she walks through the double doors of the morgue, she spots Lanie by one of the metal tables, bent over a body.

"Hey, girl," she says without looking up as Kate approaches the table. "Got your text. Give me a minute to finish up here and I'm all yours."

Kate watches as her friend expertly sews the chest of the body closed again as she waits.

"Okay, done," Lanie says as she puts the needle and thread down on the tray next to her, along with her gloves, and walks to the sink to wash her hands. "What's wrong?" Her voice is empathetic.

"Rick's acting weird," Kate sighs.

"Isn't he always?" Lanie says, then at Kate's look, "Weird how?"

"I don't know. It's not like he acts very different from before, but something's changed. It's like he's distancing himself."

"Wait up. Distancing himself? I didn't know you two were still seeing each other?"

"We're not… Well, not like that. We've kept in touch and I thought that we were going somewhere. We were talking to each other more and meeting up more often. But now it's like he's retreating and I don't know what to do about it. What if I've waited too long?"

"No. How long has it been since your kidnapping? Like three months? You're allowed to have some time to recover from that. He knows that too. No, you haven't waited too long, Kate. What happened? When did he start acting weird?"

Kate frowns. She hasn't even thought about it like that. "Uhm, I guess since last week. We met up for coffee; nothing special happened. He just left abruptly with a lame excuse about a meeting with his publisher."

"What did you talk about?"

"He made fun of me for reading that book you recommended me, we talked about my recovery for a while, and near the end, he did seem a bit off…" She's struggling to grasp what went wrong. It's definitely something in that conversation now that she thinks about it.

"Did you say something? Something that might've hurt him?" Lanie asks.

"I don't know…" She tries to think, but her mind is blank. And yet. There's something itching in the back of her mind. "Maybe…"

"Think about it, maybe something will come up. But even if it doesn't, talk to him about it. I know you, Kate. Maybe it's just one big misunderstanding and he just understood you wrong. Talk to him about it."

"Okay, I will. Thanks, Lanie," Kate says with a weak smile.

"This one's gotten to you, hasn't he?" Lanie says proudly.

Kate chuckles. "Yeah, he has." There's no point in hiding her blush. It's too obvious. She needs a change of topic, before it gets too embarrassing. Lanie doesn't know that they'd met before her kidnapping. To her, Rick just appeared out of thin air with information on her whereabouts. Though Kate suspects that Lanie does know more than she's letting on. "Anyway, do you have any new information on my victim?"

(…)

 _You know, the story line kind of reminds me of us. I mean, not the whole boyfriend, girlfriend, moving in with each other part, of course…_

She's staring at the murder board, trying to find a connection between her main suspect and the victim when her own voice pops into her head.

She actually said those words, didn't she? No wonder he practically ran out the door of the coffee shop. She's going to have to fix it. She will fix it. Tonight.

Now it all makes sense. She wasn't being crazy, he had actually been distancing himself. She's such an idiot. Why would she even say such a thing. The whole first part of the book reminded her of them. Their strange relationship. She suspects that it was the second part of the book that made her say what she did. When Sophie moved in with Billy and all went to hell.

Sophie reminded Kate of herself, being closed off and all. But Rick isn't as famous as Billy is in the book. And now that she thinks about it, all the headlines he's made have been when he's attended parties and premieres with always another woman on his arm. So it's not like the papers are out to get him in a private moment.

Rick's not that famous. In the time that she's known him, the man himself never made her think that he's just a rich playboy.

"Hey, boss," Ryan calls across the bullpen and draws her out of her musings and pulls her back into her investigation. She just has enough time to text Rick that she's not going to make it in time. He texts her back to take her time – as long as she promises to stop by when she's done.

So she does. It's nearing ten o'clock when she finally knocks on his door.

"Hey," he says as he opens the door and lets her in.

"Hi." She smiles shyly up at him, thinking about her earlier epiphany. He still seems a little bit subdued, so she goes in for a hug when she passes him. He momentarily freezes when she lightly wraps her arms around his waist, but then hugs her back.

"Have you eaten?" he asks.

She starts to say yes, but when she thinks about it, she hasn't. In the heat of the chase, she's forgotten to feed herself. Again. "No." Preparing herself for his disapproving glance, she looks up. And there it is. His eyes are worried again, his whole body seems to tell her that she has to take better care of herself.

"All right, come on. There's some chicken leftover from dinner," he says after a beat and leads her to the kitchen. She's surprised that he doesn't voice his thoughts. He usually does. Maybe that's just another sign of him pulling away. She decides it's not the right time to say something about it though. Later tonight. After she's eaten something. Now that she's here, she notices how hungry she is.

He's putting a plate of delicious-looking chicken wings into the microwave as she drops onto one of the stools surrounding his island.

"So, how was work?" he asks casually.

"It was okay. I think we're close to a break in the case," she answers absently, thinking about how she's going to voice her concerns and actual feelings towards him.

"That's good," he says. The answer pulls her out of her head. In her mind's eye, she's suddenly floating above the both of them. Him, awkwardly leaning against the counter near the microwave and her on the other side of the kitchen, slumped on a stool. Both trying to keep this awkward conversation going. This has got to stop…

So she looks around his place for the first time tonight. "Hey, you put up your Christmas tree already," she smiles.

"Yeah, Alexis and I do it a week after Thanksgiving every year," he says, and he launches into a story about him and his daughter putting up the tree. He doesn't pause when the microwave beeps and just gets her plate out and places it in front of her while he continues his story.

She tears the pieces of meat off the bone, popping them in her mouth while her hands are already looking for another piece to tear off. She must've been really hungry. And this chicken is _really_ good.

It's takes her a minute to realize he's stopped talking. "What?" she says when her eyes meet his amused ones.

"Nothing," he says, "just waiting until you start making love to that chicken."

"Shut up," she tells him with a teasing smile "I'm hungry."

"No, seriously, you're eating that chicken like you're a five-year-old," he laughs.

"Isn't that a bit early to start making love? Especially to a chicken, I mean you don't want to raise a kid who's into bestiality, right?"

"Yeah, you're right, not my best analogy."

She laughs. "I'll forgive you this time. Just don't say such a thing around Alexis or our kids." Still laughing, she takes another bite. She hears a sharp intake of breath coming from his direction and looks up at him. He's staring at her again. This time, his expression is not amused. It's shocked.

She goes over her words and internally groans. This is the time to say something. She knows it. He's not going to let this go. So she swallows her bite of chicken and takes a deep breath.

"So, uh… I think I realized something today."

"You did?" he breathes. She's surprised that he manages even that.

"Yeah," she says, trying to gather the courage to say the words she wants to say. "I made a mistake." His shoulders slump, his head bows, and she's quick to explain herself before he jumps to conclusions again. "The storyline of the book does remind me of us. Not because of the boyfriend, girlfriend thing. But because you're this… this famous author and I'm just a cop. Sophie never expected to fall for Billy. But she did…" She takes another deep breath and whispers, "And so did I."

"You fell for Billy?" he asks.

"No, Rick," she says and she looks at him.

His blue eyes pierce into hers, like he's trying to make sense of her. Whatever he sees, he must like it, because his eyes light up and he moves in closer.

"You sure? Because from what I've heard, this Billy fella is a real catch," he murmurs.

"Actors are not my type," she says as she turns towards him.

"No? What is your type?"

He's now close enough for her to pull him against her and put her lips to his ear. "Guess."

"Ah, a game. I like games," he grins. "Let's see… Cops?"

"Pff, no. One cop in a relationship is more than enough," she scoffs.

"Hmmm… Doctors?" he asks.

"Hmm, doctors _are_ good with their hands," she teases.

"Really, do you have any exp-" She muffles the rest of his sentence by pressing her lips to his. He relaxes into her. They don't deepen the kiss or try and make it more passionate. It's perfect as it is. The rest comes later. Besides, they've already had sex, there's nothing new about passion. Now, love… Love is something entirely different.

And she thinks she might be falling in love with him with no return.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

* * *

Christmas comes and goes. As does New Year's. They speak to each other on the phone, but they are both too busy to see each other very often. But now Kate is very nervous. Rick is coming by the precinct to pick her up for their first date.

At first, the plan was for him to pick her up at her place, but she and the boys got a break in their case and she had to interrogate the new suspect they'd brought in. So she texted him the address of the precinct and told him to come and get her here. Luckily, she'd realized in the morning that this might be a possibility and had taken her dress with her to work.

And here she is, getting ready for her first date with Richard Castle in the precinct locker room. She gives herself another once-over in the mirror and decides that it'll have to do. Rick has seen her at her worst, so she knows it won't matter for him if her hair or make-up is not perfect.

Her phone buzzes with a text from Rick, telling her that he's in the lift coming up to the homicide floor. She takes a deep breath and makes her way back down the stairs and into the bullpen. As she tries to slip by Ryan and Espo, they look up.

"Hot date tonight, boss?" Espo teases.

"Yeah, should we be giving the talk to someone?" Ryan asks.

"Nope. I think you guys have scared him enough already. He knows not to mess with you two," she smiles, deciding to ignore Espo's comment. It does make her feel a little better, though and calms her nerves a little bit.

She looks up as she hears the ding of the elevator arriving to their floor. The guys say something else, probably teasing her some more, but she's not paying attention to them anymore. Because Rick's coming around the corner. And the way he smiles at her when he sees her makes her heart flutter.

"Hey, you," he says as he reaches her and kisses her cheek in greeting as she moves in for a hug. He smells like he's just out of the shower, mixed with some Christmassy musk that causes a warm feeling in her belly. Like coming home.

"So this is finally happening?" Espo asks as he leans back in his chair, observing the scene before him.

Kate leans back and turns in Rick's embrace a little, without letting go of him. She actually forgot the boys were there. How is it possible that he has that effect on her already?

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asks, trying to regain her composure. She's not really succeeding, though.

"Nothing, just that it's about time, Kate," Espo tells her with a wink. "Do you know how desperate that man was when you were gone?"

She can feel Rick's hand tighten slightly on her hip. She looks up at the man next to her and smiles. "Yeah, I do."

"Good," Espo grins and gives Rick a fist bump in a brotherly fashion before saying, "Castle, just take her with you and let us work in peace without making us nauseous."

Kate laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. "Come on, Rick," she says as she pulls him along to the elevators.

"So… What are we going to do?" she asks as they wait for the lift to arrive.

"Low-key dinner. Then I thought we could maybe take a walk?" he says and then looks at her from the corner of his eye. He looks just as nervous as she feels.

"Sounds perfect," she smiles.

The elevator arrives and they get in, waving to Ryan and Esposito, who are trying to be discreet with their spying.

"Now, when we get to the restaurant, don't judge it by the way it looks. It looks terrible, but the food is the best in the city," he says as they walk the couple of blocks to the Indian restaurant where he's taking her.

"That's quite the statement.," she says. "I guess I'll just have to take your word for it." The cold January wind is biting her cheeks and she shivers. Rick pulls her closer to him and tries to block the wind for her. It keeps changing directions, though, so it doesn't help much, but she's glad to sink into his warm body and forget about the rest of the world for a second.

"Here it is," Rick murmurs into her ear and she looks up. They are standing in front of a cafeteria, or at least that's what it looks like. The restaurant is divided into two spaces. On the right is the entrance with a takeout bar and on the left a space with four or five tables with wobbly chairs in front of them. The entire place was lit with florescent lights, making the white walls even whiter and the grey linoleum on the floor looking a little grubby.

"You take me to the nicest places," she teases him.

"Just you wait," he grins.

They go in and he asks for a table for two. The man behind the takeout bar is quick in his response and leads them through a door – though she doubts it can be called a door, maybe just an opening in the wall – to the left side of the restaurant. "Sit, sit," the man says. "I will bring your menus, yes?" With that he disappears again through the hole in the wall.

Before they have to chance to start any kind of conversation, the man returns with two menus, which are two laminated pieces of paper. He hands them to them and disappears again without a word.

"Alright, so the service isn't as good as Le Bernardin, but I used to come here very often before I became a writer. It's been around for a long time, and hasn't ever changed."

"You used to come here before you were a writer?" she asks.

"Yeah, and before I met Meredith. In fact, I have only ever eaten here with Alexis. I knew Meredith would never eat in a place like this and it's not really a spot to make a great first impression, so you're the first person I've taken here, besides Alexis."

"Wow," she shyly smiles up at him. "Thank you, Rick."

"Have you chosen your food yet?" the waiter asks suddenly and Kate realizes that they haven't even looked at the menus.

"We're going to need a little more time, if you don't mind," Rick smiles up at the waiter.

"Okay," the man says and walks to another table. Rick and Kate smirk at each other. This is going to be a very entertaining evening if it's up to the way the waiter is acting.

The food is the best Indian food she has ever tasted. Conversation flows easily as they languidly dip their papadums in the mango chutney.

"Hey, I've been meaning to tell you something," she says. She's been putting this off and since they're getting a little more serious now, she just has to get it off her chest.

"You have?" he says, his interest piqued.

"Yeah…" she says, looking for a starting point. "You know I got three days off after my…" She's been avoiding the word. No more. "Kidnapping… Right?"

Of course he knows, she told him.

"Yeah," he says. "But you didn't want to talk to me when you got back." She thinks her face is showing some of the shock she's feeling. "I mean, I get it. You probably just wanted to go home and just forget the whole thing ever happened. And I assumed that I was kind of linked to the entire thing, so… I understood why you didn't want to talk to me."

She doesn't know what to say, so for a minute she just stares at him. "I… I never associated you with what happened to me in that warehouse, Rick. You're the one who came up with the idea to check into properties owned by family member of the mob, so basically you're the one who found me. I could never associate you with anything bad that happened to me." She stares at him, makes sure that he understands what she's saying before she continues.

"No, I wanted to tell you that… in those three days, I didn't exactly enjoy my free time. I jumped at every sound that came for the hallway; I tried to avoid cold water, although that was a bit harder than it sounds; I had to push myself to leave my apartment, because I was terrified of something like that happening again. I just felt so helpless, you know? They press a piece of cloth to your mouth and nose and you lose consciousness. There's nothing you can do about it…"

Rick takes her hand and caresses it with his thumb.

"Okay, I'm not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me," she chuckles at the sight of his face. He's obviously tearing himself up on the inside. "And this was supposed to be a happier story, actually. No, I wanted to tell you that in those three days, I decided to start seeing my therapist, so that one day, I'd be free of these irrational fears."

"Kate," Rick interrupts her monologue, "you should know, that those fears aren't irrational. You went through trauma; it's normal to be shaken up afterwards."

She huffs. "You're starting to sound like my therapist."

He sends her a mournful smile, "Sorry."

She waves him off. "I still haven't said what I wanted to say," she laughs.

"Sorry, I won't interrupt from now on," Rick says and pretends to lock his lips and throw the key over his shoulder.

"Goof," she laughs. "No, what I wanted to say was, that even if you apparently had the idea I wanted nothing to do with you, you were one of the reasons I went to the therapist when I did." He raises his eyebrows in wonder. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I can be a little stubborn –"

"You can leave out the _'a little,"_ he mumbles, but apologizes again for his interruption at her look.

"And I think I would have waited a lot longer – if ever – to get help if it wasn't for you," she finishes.

"Wow."

"And I want to apologize again for taking so much time before I came by. Honestly, I needed the weeks away from you to wrap my head around what had happened and…" she smiles a bit before she continues, "I probably never would've watched that Harry Potter movie with you and Alexis if I had come by earlier."

"Kate," Rick says quietly, "don't ever apologize for taking time to recover. I'm glad you came by when you did, but if you would've needed more time, that would've been fine too. I'm just happy we're here. That you're here. That you're doing well and we're going to be okay."

She bites her lip as she holds back the tears. She feels stupid for almost crying, but it's the best response he could've ever given her. "Okay," she whispers as he leans over the table to brush a kiss over her lips.

After dinner, they aimlessly roam the streets of New York without a purpose, not really focussing on where they're going and just enjoying each other's company. At least, that's what Kate thinks until she notices that Rick is leading her to Washington Square Park – the great, majestic arch rising up from between the buildings and acting as a landmark.

Kate beams up at him. She loves this park. At this time of night, the chess area and playground are empty; the area were the fountain is happily spurting water in the summer months is barren. In the distance, someone is playing the saxophone. She finds herself happily humming along to the familiar jazzy song.

" _Well, it's a marvellous night for a moon dance_ ," Castle suddenly sings softly. He holds out his hand for her to take, as he sings along with the next line of the song. " _With the stars up above in your eyes. A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of October skies."_

She sends him an eye roll, but can't help but smile as she takes his hand. He pulls her closer to him into an embrace and starts to sway to the soft music echoing its way towards them.

* * *

 _ **THE END**_

* * *

 ** _First of all I'd like to thank all of you for staying with me on this story. Thank you for all your amazing and kind reviews, you guys are the best!_**

 ** _Second, I'd like to thank the amazing Sanctuaria for her beta and helping me through a couple of writer's blocks._**

 ** _Third, I'd like to wish you all an amazing summer!_**

 ** _Au revoir!_**


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